Dear Agony
by TwiBoy
Summary: Emmett suffered a staggering loss following a car wreck. He struggles to heal and find closure with the help of the last person that he thinks would give it. Entry for the Black Balloon Contest. AH/OOC
1. Chapter 1

**The Black Balloon Contest**

**Title: Dear Agony**

**Your pen name: TwiBoy**

**Characters: (in order of appearance) Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, Bella**

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns**** the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. Breaking Benjamin owns the title from which I drew my inspiration. I don't own a damn thing.**

**Warning: Heartfail, heartfail, heartfail. Spouse/Child death. Not one stitch of happy in this piece.**

**To see other entries in the Black Balloon Contest, please visit the C2 page: ****http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/c2/78669/3/0/1/**

===***===

_I'm gonna be sick. God, wake me up. This isn't really happening. Please shut him up…just shut him UP!_

He's holding my hand, even though I know for a fact that he doesn't want to. I can see his lips moving, but the only words I can hear are, "they're gone" and, "they tried everything they could to save them"_._

_Rosalie. Bella. Gone._

Why did _he_ have to tell me? The man who has treated me like the bane of his existence ever since I took his sister on our first date eight years ago? The man with the same jade colored eyes as my Rose? Why did _he_ have to tell me that my wife and daughter didn't survive?

Why did _I_ survive?!

Why am I not crying?

I want to puke. I want to pick something up and throw it. I want to hit the man holding my hand with the telephone sitting on the bedside table. _Why won't he shut up?_

I blink and I'm standing between two stainless steel tables. My beautiful, statuesque wife is lying on one, covered to the neck with a starched white sheet, my pint-sized princess covered the same way on the other while I'm hunched over a pair of crutches, darting my eyes between both tables. I'm in complete and utter physical agony trying to hold myself upright and want so badly to stab the doctor with a crutch for asking me if I want a chair or if I'd like to actually try some pain medication.

Nearly tripping from lack of coordination with the crutches, I reach out to stroke Rosalie's face; a face that had been utterly flawless since the day I first laid eyes on her, no doubt since the day she was born; a face that is now riddled with superficial lacerations, bruises, and the discoloration that means she is gone forever. Instead of touching her face, my hand flits at the last possible moment to her hair. Thick, blond, lustrous, soft as silk. Touching her hair I can handle. Touching her face and feeling the chill of death, I cannot.

_Rose. Rose, I love you so much._

With great trepidation, I turn my head to the table on my other side and nearly collapse under the weight of the physical pain and the overwhelming anguish of seeing my two-year-old daughter's lifeless body. With a shaking hand, I grasp a lock of Bella's glossy dark-chocolate brown hair and watch the strands slide through my fingers as I turn my palm to face the ceiling. My eyes then become transfixed on her tiny pursed lips, tinged a fatal blue.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the doctor reach out to touch my shoulder.

"You lay one finger on me and I'll fucking end you," I growl.

I blink and I'm at the grave site. A gleaming white casket with an obscenely large spray of blood-red roses to my left, a grotesquely small matching white casket with an equally sizable spray of white calla lilies to my right.

I'm in a wheel chair because I managed to re-dislocate my hip after a failed attempt to walk without an aid in the hospital. Some people add insult to injury; I add injury to injury. Of course, refusing medicine to at least take the edge off the pain may be considered adding insult to injury, but I'm not concerning myself with logistics at this point.

The preacher's wife reaches out to touch my shoulder and I twist in my chair away from her just as I feel my brother-in-law's hand tighten around my own.

God help me, I want to hit him so badly.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want..."

_I want my wife and daughter back._

"...He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters..."

_The waters here are anything but still._

"...He restoreth my soul..."

_My soul is dead._

"...He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake…"

_I don't want to be lead anywhere for anything._

"...Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me..."

_Death completely engulfs me, I fear life and I'm alone._

"…Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me..."

_I find comfort in nothing._

"...Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies..."

_My only enemy is the one who took my family._

"…Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."

_My cup is empty._

"…Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever."

_And surely pigs will sprout wings and fucking fly across the Pacific._

"Amen," the preacher concludes.

"Amen," I croak.

I still haven't shed a tear.

My erratic thoughts are cut off by a nauseating, throat tearing wail.

I blink and I'm sitting up in bed. My t-shirt clings to my body, glued to my skin with cold sweat, and the screaming hasn't stopped. Jerking my head towards the door and seeing him standing in the doorway, panic-stricken and sleep ruffled, I realize the screaming is my own.

"Emmett," he rasps.

"Oh God, Jasper, I can't take it…make it stop. _Please!_" I can't see him past the glaze of tears, but seconds later, I feel the mattress of my bed dip to accommodate his weight as he wraps me in his arms. He envelopes me in a vice of limbs and pulls me to half sit in his lap, pressing my wet face into his shoulder, rocking me like an infant.

"I want to, believe me when I say I do," he sobs.

"I have nothing left to give," I whisper as I try to bury myself in Jasper's embrace.

Exhaustion forces my eyelids to slip closed and I begin to drift into a horrifically fitful sleep. So, I'm not a hundred percent sure if I actually heard him answer, "I'll give you everything."

===***===

**A/N I do plan to continue this following the conclusion of the contest. Should you add this story to your alerts, know that it will ultimately be a slash fic. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing. **

**A/N Thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited and alerted this piece. I apologize in the long ass time it's taken for me to update after I promised a continuation – as a lot of y'all know, real life has taken a toll and updates, while they will come, they will be slow in doing so. I appreciate your patience and your continued readership. And since my time online is limited, I'm posting this now, unbetad – otherwise, it may be weeks before this makes it anywhere. That being said, any grammatical fuck ups are wholly my own.**

**Warning: I'm a slash writer. This will ultimately be a slash tale. While there is a lemon in this chapter, it's straight. I know – mark the calendars right? *snicker* **

**O.o**

Blinking, I squirm deep into the blankets of my bed, reluctant to leave its blissful warmth. I'm unwilling to roll over and see the clock that is surely going to tell me that I have but a few scant moments left to enjoy this rare pleasure. This quickly changes when I hear the sweetest groan drift to my ears from behind me.

Where I felt sluggish mere moments before, I enthusiastically flip my body over to gaze upon the supreme beauty that is my wife.

"Rose," I whisper, reaching out to stroke her golden hair, mussed from her sleep. She forgot to clean off her makeup last night before bed, and traces of mascara are now smudged around her eyes, giving them a smoky look. She thinks it makes her look grungy and careless. I think it's sexy as hell. Her eyelids flutter open, and he emerald gaze quickly focuses on me.

I wonder if she sees in my eyes how much I adore her, how my body aches and burns for her. I wonder if she sees how I would quite literally die without her.

"Hey, baby," she murmurs, stretching her lean, toned arms above her head and arching her back. The comforter slips the slightest bit, exposing her shoulders. Her bare shoulders.

My wife is naked. Beautifully, delightfully, sinfully naked.

An indescribable sound rumbles in my throat as I pull her roughly into my arms and immediately seal her mouth with mine. Normally, I try not to attack before at least brushing my teeth, but right now, I need her so badly that my concern for niceties goes right out the window.

"Rose, my Rose, I fucking love you so much," I whisper against her lips as I angle my body into hers, her curves fitting perfectly against me, and my erection, immediately rigid and aching, nestled into the cleft of her thighs. I'm rewarded with a gasp and a firm thigh thrown over my hip as she rubs herself against me. My body violently shivers as I dip my head to graze my teeth along her collarbone, my hand sweeping down the silken curve of her back to grip one of the many parts of her glorious body that drives me crazy. As I squeeze the satiny skin of her ass, she whimpers, sweet tiny pleading noises that are music to my ears.

As a thrilling surprise, Rosalie pushes me onto my back, straddling my hips, and pulling my hands above my head to pin them into the mattress.

"Mmmm...hello!" I say before biting my bottom lip.

"Hello, yourself," she purrs, rolling her hips against me, her skin heated and slick, creating beautiful friction.

Leaning in, she takes my earlobe between her teeth, gently tugging as her tongue glances my flesh. I can't help but growl and arch my back to press myself against her. She giggles before releasing my earlobe to slowly drag her lips down my neck, then moving over to hotly kiss my Adam's apple. Letting go of one of my hands, she brings one of hers down to my chest, kneading my pectoral muscle before fanning out her fingers to slide each one across my hardened nipple.

"Rose," I hiss. As much as I love her delicious torture, I'm struggling not to flip her over and drive myself inside her, swift and hard.

"Shhh," my goddess whispers before taking my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, pinching the nub while she kisses and laves the skin at the hollow of my neck with her tongue.

I feel like a horny teenager for the way that I'm rhythmically grinding myself against her as my hips repeatedly lift slightly off the bed. Of course, the way she's sliding her excited sex against mine isn't helping matters any, though the husky moans against my skin tell me that she's not complaining one bit.

I've never been one that was skilled in the art of self-control, so it comes as no surprise that I give in a little bit to my earlier whim to flip her over. Instead of thrusting my hard length inside of her, however, I mimic her earlier position and pin her hands above _her_ head, before I take one of her swollen nipples between my lips.

She cries out, squirming beneath me. "Em! Oh god!"

I suck her nipple hard into my mouth, my tongue fluttering relentlessly across the very tip. Grasping both of her hands in one of mine, I use the thumb of my free hand to strum her opposite nipple, alternating between squeezing the full swell of her breast and tormenting the tight little bud as she writhes beneath me.

"What's wrong, baby?" I murmur against her skin as my hand leaves her breast to slowly slide down her taut body to slip between her thighs.

The muscles in her abdomen and thighs quiver as I press my fingers against her naked skin, the warm, sleek evidence of her arousal making me delirious. I gently part the tender folds with a fingertip before grazing the swollen flesh of her clit, causing her back to arch quite strongly off the mattress. Her breath escapes her in choked pants as I start to rhythmically, gently caress the small knot of nerves while my mouth continues to worship her breast.

"Emmett, Em..._please_!" she begs.

"Please, what, honey?" I ask, my voice muffled against her skin.

"I need you," she sighs.

"You have me. Always."

"Inside me, Em, I need you inside me," she growls.

Delighted in the abrupt change in her voice, I push myself up and off her body. Grabbing her by her shoulder and hip, I turn her over and she automatically pushes her body up on her hands and knees, tilting her ass in invitation.

"Rose, my beautiful Rose," I murmur, stroking her back from shoulder to hip, "do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please, yes," she answers, pressing her face into the pillow.

Using my knee, I separate hers to widen her stance as I position myself between her legs. Wasting no time, I place the head of my erection at her entrance and thrust my entire length inside her with a grunt as she groans into her pillow. With my body pressed flush against hers, I allow myself to revel in the slick velvet warmth of her sex as I stroke her skin.

"So perfect," I whisper, before withdrawing from her.

Rosalie tilts her hips slightly as I thrust myself inside her once more, the new angle allowing me to bury myself the slightest bit deeper. She mewls, gripping the sheets of the bed in her fists as I withdraw again.

"More...please," she pants, and I happily oblige.

Each retreat of my hips is met with an advance of hers, an unspoken request for more, and I answer that request with a demanding thrust, each one harder than the last. It's not long before the requests are no longer unspoken as she pleads for more. "Harder, Emmett...fuck me harder. Oh, God!"

My rhythm picks up just before I release her hips to lower my body above hers, pressing the length of my torso against her back and nibbling her shoulder blade. My modified position lets me apply more pressure against her G-spot, causing my wife to growl and buck beneath me as I feel my orgasm begin to build.

Rosalie shifts her body as she brings her hand beneath her to slip between her legs. Knowing that she is touching herself causes me to all but double my efforts, the sounds of skin repeatedly connecting nearly drowning out her cries as I lick and suck at the tender skin of her neck.

"Shit...baby...I'm c-coming..." she whimpers as I feel her sleek inner muscles constrict around me, pulsing with her orgasm.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her upper body until we're both up on our knees as I continue to drive myself into her. Taking advantage of our new position, I grasp her hip in one hand as I cup a full breast in the other. She's still whimpering through her climax as mine is about to erupt.

"Fuck...Rose...I love you," I growl into her ear as the spring, wound tight with my need for release snaps.

My wife wraps a hand around the back of my head, her fingers winding themselves in my hair as I rock us both, riding the waning currents of our combined ecstasy. I gently kiss everywhere my lips can reach: her neck, her shoulders, her arms. I so treasure every part of my wife and hope that even in my currently diminishing strength, she knows it.

After catching our breath, we collapse, tangled onto the bed as I sigh with a very satisfied grin on my face, nuzzling the nape of her neck with my nose.

"I can't think of a better way to wake up in the morning," I murmur happily.

Turning over to face me, the look in her eyes erases every happy thought I just had as she burrows her head in my chest.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I ask, caressing her back.

"If you continue to ignore the present for the past, baby, it'll bury you."

"What?" I ask, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Get out of bed. Take your medicine. Do your exercises. Stop behaving as if you have nothing to live for."

"Excuse me?" I abruptly sit up so I can see her face as she continues to baffle me. "You're not making any sense, Rose. What happened?"

Her eyes fill with tears. "The accident. You're still here, but you seem to be hell-bent on convincing the world that you're dead."

"Accident?" I ask.

Without warning, I'm bombarded by images.

Sitting shogun to Rosalie in the Jeep, turning around to look at my daughter, happily babbling about a bug she met earlier in the afternoon. Rosalie taking a turn too fast, cursing before hitting the breaks. Rosalie cursing again when she realizes the breaks are gone. Bella, my baby girl's eyes wide with fear as she picks up on our anxiety. "Daddy," she whimpers just before I worriedly assure her that everything's going to be oka-

Horns.

Sirens.

Silence.

Screaming. Blood curdling screaming, I want it to stop.

_Make it stop!_

I'm jolted awake by the bed shifting and a deep, rusty voice murmuring in my ear.

"Shhh, I'm here," he says, tightening his arms around me. "Everything's gonna be okay, Emmett."

I break down then, pulling him completely against me as I sob into his t-shirt. "That's what I told my Bella...right before...and it wasn't. I lied...I couldn't help her, Jasper!"

"Em, the accident wasn't your fault-"

"I shouldn't have called for a ride. I shouldn't have ridden with Jake to work, I should have driven myself. If I drove, Rose and Bella would never have been in the car, wouldn't have had to come get me-"

Jasper grips my shoulders and shakes me, hard. "Emmett, _stop!_ You can't keep doing this! Do you hear yourself? If it was you, my sister would be widow, my niece wouldn't have a father. Do you honestly think that would be a good thing?"

"They'd still be here," I growl, shoving him away before rolling over to the edge of the bed to sit up.

Not thinking, I stand up off the mattress before crippling pain in my hips causes me to drop like lead to my bedroom floor. Jasper is immediately at my side assessing the damage.

"Christ, Emmett, what were you thinking? You can't just hop up like you're Superman."

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" I snap. "I'm in a broken pile on the floor, I think that establishes the fact that I'm anything but Superman."

With a resigned sigh, since he's used to my cutting remarks, he says, "At least take something for the pain. If you managed the pain instead of toughed it out, you could exercise, regain the use of your muscles, and fucking heal. Why are you being so stubborn?"

Standing, he grabs my elbow crutches next to the bedside table, before leaning them against the bed and bending down to help lift me off the floor.

"I'd rather feel the pain than nothing at all."

**O.o**

**A/N Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing. **

**O.o**

"Daddy?"

"Yes, baby girl?"

"Wanna go peegound, Daddy."

I smile, looking into her huge brown eyes as she stands beside my bed, and my heart breaks a little at the thought that one day, she will actually be able to pronounce the word, 'playground' properly. I then chuckle when I realize that at some point during the night, she managed to kick off her jammie pants and is now standing by the bed in all her chubby-legged glory, letting me know that regardless of her state of dress, she was ready to go.

"That sounds like a fun idea, Bella, but it's five in the morning. Maybe we can go after breakfast."

Her face falls a bit, but she soon breaks out in a fit of giggles as I snatch her up and pull her into bed with her mother and I.

"Love you, baby girl," I tell her as she snuggles under the blanket.

"Wubboo, Daddy."

Closing my eyes for just a moment, I'm confused when I reopen them. Groggy, I realize I must have fallen asleep. What confuses me further is that my daughter is not smooshed in between my wife and I. Rosalie has a warm arm and leg draped over me and I reach out to push her blond hair out of her face as my mind randomly asks, _When did she cut her hair?_

"Baby, where's...?"

I'm interrupted by sleepy green eyes blinking at me.

_Shit, another dream, _I lament as my heart sinks.

Apparently, I didn't just think those words as Jasper mutters, "Yours or mine?"

"Excuse me?" I mumble in reply.

"Nevermind," he grumbles as he closes his eyes, his arm and leg unmoving.

This situation stopped being awkward about three weeks ago. Rarely has a day gone by in the past five and a half months that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night, in a fit of terrible screams and a clammy sweat, my mind bombarded by vicious nightmares of the accident. It never failed that Jasper always rushed into my room, climbed in bed with me and held me as I rode it out. After one particularly horrible night – a night where I dreamed of my wife and daughter on the stainless steel tables in the morgue, staring at me with dead eyes and asking me why I did this to them – Jasper began sleeping in my bed.

I never argued.

Waking up, often tangled together like we are right now, is a strange comfort. While I dreamed of Rose and Bella every night, the horrific nightmares have stopped, and I wasn't about to question the coincidence that they stopped when Jasper began falling asleep with me in my bed.

I'm not going to lie when I say that it's odd seeking comfort in this man. We didn't get along before the accident – certainly not due to lack of trying on my part – and our current relationship is awkward at best. Yet, he consistently goes out of his way to take care of me, beginning with him immediately moving in right before I was discharged from the hospital. Of course, I balked at the idea of the two of us living under the same roof, but since I apparently needed an ever watchful eye to make sure I took care of myself, and the fact that his and Rosalie's parents lived so far away, with Jasper living near us in Forks, he took the responsibility on himself. The first three months, he ushered me to doctor's appointments, physical therapy sessions and took every opportunity afforded to him to get me out of the house. He even offered to take me to see a grief counselor, but I told him to fuck off, a sentiment he has grown used to since my life came to a grinding halt. I asked him why he wasn't seeing a grief counselor himself, and he said that through helping and taking care of me, it helped him cope. Our situation, while quite unorthodox apparently became a somewhat symbiotic one.

The new school year started at Forks Elementary two and a half months ago, and as the school's Music Director, Jasper was no longer home with me all day long. I moped around the house more when he was at work, and found myself eagerly awaiting his return, attempting to welcome him home with something that resembled dinner. One of the first few evenings I tried cooking for him, he attempted a joke saying that he felt like a god.

"How's that?" I grumbled, placing a charred pork chop and a scoop of scorched scalloped potatoes on his plate.

"I came home to a burnt offering." Holding his hands over his plate, he snickered saying, "I bless the pig and potato that was sacrificed in my honor."

I told him to fuck off, but he ate it anyway. We later came to an understanding that he would prepare whatever we wanted for dinner before he left for work, and I would just heat it up when he was on his way home.

So far, so good.

He opens his eyes to look at me and I can't get over how they are exactly like Rosalie's. They're a lighter, Granny Smith apple shade of green around the pupil with a dark evergreen lining the outer edge of the iris. His lashes are long and thick, just like hers, almost touching the top of his cheekbones when he blinks.

Something that he's not doing right now.

"'Sup, Jazz?" I ask.

His eyes flicker towards my mouth and back again and I close my eyes with a groan.

"I'm well aware of the morning breath, man. Just gimme ten more minutes and I'll be outta your face," I grumble.

Clearing his throat, he says, "No rush."

_Good. I don't wanna move right now._

I breathe a deep sigh as he uses his arm to pull me closer into his body. He's so warm, and I think nothing of letting him do it. This should feel weird, all but cuddling in my bed with my brother-in-law, but I simply accept it for what it is: Comfort.

I'm not foolish enough to think that he's not suffering like I am. He lost his sister and his niece, and if holding on to me helps him hold on to what he's lost, then I'm not going to be my usual dickhead self and tell him to fuck off.

Besides, it feels..._nice_.

Right up until I get a cramp in my thigh.

"Oh, _fuck!_" I yell as I roll onto my back, pulling my knee up to my chest.

Jasper, bedside nurse extraordinaire immediately hops up, hovering over me.

"Just relax, Em. Let go," he urges, pulling my hands away from my knee.

Pathetically sobbing in pain, I let him gently straighten my leg as he holds my thigh still in one hand and kneads the bunched up muscle with the heel of his other. My leg is on fire and the pain is making me nauseous.

"Jazz," I wheeze.

"Shhh."

He continues to massage the muscle with the heel of his hand for a moment longer before using his fingers to knead it into submission. Before long, I go from vomit-worthy torture, to something resembling bliss, and I'm panting like I just ran an 800 meter relay.

"Better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing.

"Much. Thank you."

"No problem. Ya big baby," he says with a chuckle.

"Fuck off."

And with that, the spell is broken.

Jasper pats my knee and climbs out of bed while I lay in my spot, my arm covering my eyes.

In blocking my sight from the outside world, I allow my mind to drift back to memories of my tiny princess. I love how she was always so overexcited about _everything_ and would trip over a thought when she ran after something at full speed. Rosie and I used to joke about how God gave her so much beauty that there wasn't any room left for grace.

While she was a clumsy little cherub, that never stopped her from demanding attention. She loved to perform for an adoring audience, singing or doing a little toddler dance. Her favorite song, one that she used to bug us with on car rides was "ABC" by _The Jackson Five_.

"A-B-C...one-two-free...dory me...you an _me!_"

And if she ever sang it in front of Jasper, forget it; we had "ABC" in two-part-not-quite-harmony. He would also constantly regal her with stories of the songs she would sing when she joined the Elementary Chorus. She was "Unca Jazz's" lil singer.

Tears start to slip past my closed eyelids and it's all I can do to get out of bed. Once I finally manage to put my bare feet on the floor, I grab my cane and make my way to the room in my house that both breaks and heals my heart at the same time.

Everything is the same. The pink princess toddler bed against the wall, an airy pink gauze canopy hanging from the ceiling, stuffed animals and baby dolls everywhere, on shelves, on the bed, on her dresser. I limp over to the bed and gingerly sit down, terrified that one wrong move will break it. Grasping her fuzzy pink pillow, I bring it up to my nose and inhale deeply, slowly wetting the soft fabric with my tears as I drown myself in her scent.

"Oh God, Bella...my Isabella."

I carefully lower myself onto her bed, drawing my knees up to my chest in an effort to make my large frame fit on the small piece of furniture. I'm still too tall as my feet hang over the foot of the bed and the wood frame digs into my ankles. I don't dare let myself fall asleep for I know if I do, it'll make the cramp I just got in my own bed seem like a walk in the park. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you look at it, I just lay there and weep, clutching Bella's pillow.

"Emmett," I hear Jasper whisper from the doorway. "You need to get in the shower. We have just over an hour before you're due for PT."

"I'm not going," I mumble into the pillow.

"You can't keep canceling, you know this. Your hip would have been healed months ago if you kept all your appointments and did the home exercises more than once. Now, come on."

"Fuck off."

"Fuck you, Emmett. Now, get off the bed before you cover up her scent with yours."

The bastard knew that would get to me.

And I hated him for it.

"Fine. Let's get _me_ ready for PT so _you_ can feel better."

"Sometimes I wonder why I continue to put up with your shit," he growls.

"And why exactly _is_ that, Jasper? Guilt?"

He doesn't meet my eye, rather, he looks off to the side and swallows hard. "Let's get going. We don't have all fucking day and you don't wanna piss off the new guy by being late," he says and leaves the room.

_Great. Forgot about the new Physical Therapist._

My regular guy, Tyler had moved to another facility and I'm now being put off on some other poor sap. Ed Something-or-other.

This day is off to a terrific start: leg cramp in bed, mini break-down in Bella's room, and now I'm off to play "Let's See How Bendy Emmett Ain't" with the new guy, when all I want to do is go back to bed and try to convince Jasper to do the same.

I'm grateful that I'm able to take a shower while standing now. Immediately following the accident, I couldn't even get into the tub, and had to make due with a modified bed bath as I sat on the edge of my bed and tried not to break my leg as I cleansed my body. Jasper originally tried helping me, but I could see that the whole thing was tremendously awkward for him, not to mention how humiliating it was for me. That was one thing I didn't want him helping me with.

Naturally, thinking about how much better it feels to stand in the shower causes me to slip and I would have completely collapsed if I hadn't grabbed the pull-up bar at the last moment. My shoulder must have been jealous of the attention my leg received earlier, though because it now feels like I've pulled every tendon in that particular joint.

"Jasper?" I call out, trying to conceal the pain in my voice.

"What?" he answers, gruffly.

"Can I skip PT if I broke my shoulder?" Now, it's impossible to hide the fact that I'm in pain.

I hear rapid footfalls heading for the bathroom and see the door open as he gapes at me in concern. I managed to grab a towel off the rod next to the tub to try to hang on to the last shred of dignity I have left.

"What happened? Do you really think you broke your shoulder?" he asks, slowly walking towards me as I stand hunched in the shower, holding a towel over my junk with my bad hand and clasping my injured shoulder with the other.

He gently takes my elbow and I lean on him a little to step out of the slippery tub, nearly taking us both down to the floor. "I swear, I'm as clumsy as Bella, now," I joke, as tears of humiliation slide down my face.

"It's okay, Em, these things happen."

Once I'm standing somewhat upright, he carefully ties the towel around my waist, the act causing him to look as pained as I must look.

"Dude, wipe the Edward Scissorhands look off your face. Christ, I'm the one who's hurting here," I grump.

Ignoring me, he says, "Let's get you dressed and call the orthopedic surgeon for his opinion. Meanwhile, I think you should take some Percos-"

"When are you gonna learn that I'm not taking the fucking pills?" I snap.

Shaking his head, he says, "You know, I'm beginning to think you're nothing but a pain slut."

"Fuck off."

He snorts as we hobble back to my room.

**O.o**

**A/N Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing. **

**O.o**

"Seriously – do I _have_ to go? I don't wanna go. _He_ certainly doesn't want me to go," I complain to my wife.

Fixing a burning gaze on me – and it's definitely not the kind of burning gaze I prefer – she silently tells me that I do, indeed, have to go. She throws a black polo and khaki slacks at me and orders me to change.

"How 'bout you and Bella go? And when you get home, I'll give Bella her bath and put her to bed, and then we can have a little special time ourselves," I offer with a wink.

"How 'bout, we all go, and then we all get home, you can give Bella her bath, put her to bed, and we can have a little special time to ourselves?" she replies with a sarcastic smirk.

"Come on, baby. He doesn't like being around me. It's just gonna make things awkward."

"Emmett McCarty! It's just a concert. You're not gonna have to sit down for a couple of hours having dinner with the man. I think you can put your differences aside for just one night and be civil."

"I _am_ civil! He's the one that has the problem with me. He adores you, worships Bella and loathes me. Why?" I ask, throwing my hands out to my sides.

She walks up to me and grasps my face in her hands, squishing my cheeks together. "Because you're schtupping his sister. Now get changed. I'm _not_ going to tell you again."

"You're not? Oh, good, so does that mean I don't-" With surprising force, she shoves me backwards onto the bed so hard that I bounce before sitting up. For a moment, I think she plans on getting frisky, but I'm very much disappointed to see her sashay out of the room to get Bella dressed for the Forks Elementary Spring Concert.

I blink and I'm a bit disoriented when I find myself not on my bed, but rather, riding shotgun with Jasper in his truck. I must have fallen asleep during the ride.

"What the hell? When did I doze off?" I ask, my voice scratchy with sleep.

"As soon as you got in the truck," Jasper replies, never taking his eyes off the road.

"I don't remember getting in the truck..." My voice trails off as I look out the window, and I heave a contented sigh as I realize, for the first time in a long while, that I feel rather good.

As if reading my mind, Jasper asks, "How are you feeling?"

I can't help but smile when I answer, continuing to look out the window. "Really good for a change. I must still be sleeping. Or high, or..." Suspicion causes me to look back at Jasper. "What did you do?"

His face tinges red and he still doesn't take his eyes off the road.

"Jasper, I asked you a God damned question. What did you_ do_?"

"Dr. Cullen said that you needed to take a Percocet to dull the pain and help you relax. Otherwise you would end up hurting yourself further in PT-"

"You fucking _drugged me_? You son of a bitch!" The only thing stopping me from lunging across the seat and punching him senseless is the fact that he's driving.

"You're pissed at me because you feel nice right now? Did you happen to realize that, for the first time in almost six months, you actually smiled? How horrible is that?"

_So he _hadn't_ kept his eye on the road the whole time._

"I told you I didn't want to take the drugs. If I was at risk of hurting myself during my session today, then you should have just canceled," I grumble.

"Do you think Rose would want to see you a constant crumpled mess all the time? To see you living in pain? Do you think _I_ enjoy seeing that?" he asks, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Please," I hiss. "You probably get off on the fact that I'm miserable."

Swift enough to make me gasp in surprise, Jasper violently jerks the wheel, steering the truck onto the shoulder of the highway before slamming on the brakes. The seat belt tightens across my shoulder and chest, but surprisingly enough, I barely feel it. After turning on his hazard lights, Jasper throws off his seat belt, gets out of the truck and stalks off the highway. Stopping several yards off the pavement with his back to the truck, he throws his head back and lets loose a ferocious scream. His voice cracks several times and the terrible sound seems to go on forever before he finally stops, his shoulders heaving as he breathes deep.

I've never seen him lose his cool like that and I'm stunned silent as I watch him turn around and slowly make his way back to the truck.

He climbs back in, buckles his seat belt, turns off the hazard lights and shifts the truck into gear, gradually picking up speed until he merges back onto the highway.

We're both silent for the rest of the ride to the orthopedic center.

**O.o**

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCarty. My name is Edward Cullen," the young Physical Therapist says, shaking my hand.

"Emmett's okay," I reply. "So, Cullen? Any relation to-" He cuts me off by nodding.

"Yeah, Dr. Carlisle Cullen is my father. He cuts 'em open, I help 'em heal," he chuckles.

"Fantastic," I scoff. "So, I'm sure he's already filled you in on what a pain in the ass, I am?"

"He didn't have to. The fact that you're still using a cane nearly six months after your surgery tells me that you are. Not a fan of exercising are you, Emmett?" The way his tone has abruptly changed catches me off guard.

Clearing my throat, I reply, "I used to be."

He gives me a visual once over before he nods. "I can tell. All the more reason you shouldn't give it up. Wouldn't want what appears to be years of hard work to all go to waste, now would you?"

I step close enough to get right in his face. "My wife and daughter were killed 152 days ago. I find enjoyment in very little as of late, and I don't need a little pissant like you preaching about how I should keep active. So, if you please, could we just get this shit over and done with so I can go home?" I growl.

I expect him to back away, to look away, to fucking blush..._something. _What I don't expect is for him to hold my gaze and step even closer. It it weren't for the couple inches in height difference, we would be nose-to-nose.

"What you've gone through is unspeakable. It was a horrific tragedy, one I would not wish on my worst enemy, so believe me when I tell you I absolutely _hate _it for you. But don't think for one moment that I am going to let you use the people you loved most in the world as a fucking crutch. Wallowing in a sea of self pity is _not_ the way to honor their memory. Don't insult them by continuing to do it, and don'ttreat me, or _him_," he snaps, pointing at Jasper, "like shit because you're grieving. Cut everyone some slack and let someone help you, Emmett."

He finally steps back while I release the breath I held during his verbal slap in the face.

"Now," he says, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles, "we can get to work."

**O.o**

Lying on my back, I'm panting as I feel the muscles in my legs twitch from exertion. Compared to my old gym routine, the exercises I just did with Edward were relatively mild, but, as it's been pointed out to me, I've been slacking and I feel like it's my first time hitting the gym all over again.

"Okay, Emmett. Time to get up and stretch," Edward commands. He's a pushy fucker.

I wince as I bring one of my knees up to my chest, putting some strain on my bad hip. The tension causes me to abruptly release it and I pant just a little harder.

Edward scoffs. "Ya big baby."

Being that's the second time I've heard that today, I fix a menacing glare on my Physical Therapist sitting on the floor beside me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

After taking a few deeps breaths, I straighten out my legs. "I feel a bit weak, and...aw_ Christ_!" I cry out as I get another cramp, this time in my calf. This shit is beginning to get old.

Without a word, Edward pulls my hands away from my calf, grasping my leg in both of his hands and bending it slightly at the knee. Holding my knee in one hand, he props my foot on his thigh as his fingers find the knot of muscles and begin to knead it. At first, it feels like he's spreading fire through my leg but as the muscles begin to release, it feels way too fucking good.

My groan causes his hands to still. "Everything okay, Emmett?"

I swallow a couple of times and answer, "I'm fine. Sorry. That just felt nice." I close my eyes to hide my embarrassment. I can only imagine how he must feel at my display.

Instead of letting go of my leg and helping me up, he continues to massage my calf and I'm torn between wanting him to stop, and wanting him to never stop. Reason finally wins.

"Look, I'm not gay or anything, but unless you're trying to get me off with that, you better stop."

Setting my leg back down on the floor, he chuckles. "Not for nothing, but I'm the wrong person to say something like that to."

My eyes snap open and I pick my head up off the floor to look at him. "Dude, I was joking. I didn't mean to offend you."

He stops me with a shake of his head as he reaches out a hand to help me to my feet. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh," I reply, my eyebrows knitting together.

Then it dawns on me. "Oh..._oh!_"

Edward raises an eyebrow and smirks at me. "Is that gonna be a problem, Emmett?"

"Um, not a problem, no. A little awkward maybe, but whatever floats your boat, man."

He offers me a tight smile and a nod. "So, is the cramping a problem? Does that happen often?"

"More often then I'd like," I scoff.

"You should try increasing your potassium intake. If you're not into taking supplements, eating some bananas every day should help a little."

Nodding, I reply, "Thanks. I'll try that."

After I'm sufficiently stretched and cooled off from our session, Edward accompanies me out to the lobby, stopping at the reception desk to drop off my file and pick up another. He smiles at a teenage girl across the lobby who has a pair of elbow crutches propped against the arm of her chair.

"How are you today, Nessie?" Edward asks her.

"I managed to walk a full mile yesterday. I feel pretty awesome!" she replies with a grin.

He matches her grin and looks truly happy to hear the news. I have to force myself to not ask him about her situation since I know Edward can't share that with me, but it doesn't stop my curiosity. Was she in an accident? Was she born with a condition that's taking away her ability to walk? How is she so happy? I suddenly find myself envious.

My envy turns back to curiosity when I see Edward looking at Jasper as he enters the lobby with a cup of coffee. The look is accompanied by a crooked smirk and Jasper raises an eyebrow at him.

Snickering, I clap Edward on the back and whisper, "Wrong tree, dude."

Not taking his eyes off Jasper, he replies, "Don't be so sure."

I turn back to look at Jasper and see a faint blush across his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, Jasper asks, "Ready to go, Em?"

**O.o**

Our ride home was silent, even though I wanted to ask him what was up with his wordless exchange with Edward. Was he just embarrassed that Edward was checking him out? Did he _like_ that Edward was checking him out?

Is Jasper gay?

Does it matter?

It shouldn't. A person's sexuality means nothing to me; it's a part of who a person is, it doesn't have a thing to do with their character. However, sharing a bed with a gay man every night might make things a bit awkward.

Jasper's never treated me in a sexual manner. He's never ogled me or taken advantage of me when I needed help. He couldn't even stand to help me bathe myself. If he were gay, wouldn't he be jumping at the opportunity to have his hands on my naked body?

_Way to be conceited asshole._

I roll my eyes at that thought. Still, wouldn't a gay guy jump at the chance to give another guy a bed bath?

_Maybe he doesn't want you to think he's gay._

That thought I can't chase away.

After Jasper dropped me off at home, he headed to school, having taken the morning off to take me to PT. With Jasper gone, I'm left to my own devices at home until he returns. Trying to busy myself, I start a load of laundry, which is really fun limping around with a full basket and making my way to the basement. It would just be my luck that I would fall down the stairs.

No such luck, and I can't decide whether that's good or bad.

After I add the detergent and fabric softener, I chuckle at the thought of Rosalie watching me right now. She used to joke that I would just simply buy new clothes to avoid washing my own. To say that I was domestically challenged was an understatement, and she was always the one picking up the slack. She never got on my case about it, and now I can't help but feel guilty. I worked a regular nine-to-five as a claims adjuster and Rose taught third grade at Forks Elementary. She was generally home before I was, but she spent a lot of time grading homework, working on lesson plans and such. Regardless, she never complained about my lack of help around the house saying that she enjoyed taking care of our family. After Bella arrived, though, I had my hands full with her, so the little angel balanced things out a bit. I can't help, though, but lament over the fact that if I had done just a little bit more, we would have had even more time to spend together as a family.

Not to mention the fact that I would have been washing Rosie's lacy things as opposed to Jasper's boxer briefs right now.

If Rosalie is watching at me, she is surely laughing.

I snort at the washer and let the door slam shut, not caring about the clanging sound it makes as I limp back to the stairs. I'm grateful that I can now lean on the bannister since I couldn't juggle my cane and the laundry basket full of clothes on the trip down.

Being worn out from this morning and the pitiful amount of exertion up and down the basement stairs, I climb back in bed, not bothering to get under the covers.

**O.o**

The weather is beautiful and I can't help but smile at my tiny sweetheart sprawled out on the grass soaking up the sunshine. "My Bella, everyone's waiting to cut the cake. Let's go so we can sing _Happy Birthday_, baby girl."

She immediately scrambles up and pumps her chubby little limbs as she runs across the few feet of grass to leap into my embrace. My arms are now filled with giggly toddler, covered in pink tulle and bits of grass, and I've never been happier.

"Okay, we're ready!" I shout as I run to the picnic table toting my daughter like a football as she giggles uncontrollably.

Three candles are lit on the pink and white princess cake and Bella immediately tries to blow them out.

"No, baby girl. We have to wait until we all sing first."

She pouts but only for a minute as everyone around the tables breaks into song.

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Bella! Happy Birthday to you!" we all sing as she smiles and buries her face in my shirt.

"Okay, now make a wi-"

"PFFTHTHTH!" she interrupts me as she blows and sputters over the candles.

Once the laughter dies down, Rosalie pulls each of the candles free from the icing. "One...two...and three! One to grow on," she croons as she leans in to kiss Bella's pudgy cheek.

I set Bella down in her chair and turn to take Rose in my arms causing her to jump as she's busy sucking the icing off the bottoms of the candles.

"Hey," I purr. "Save some for me." I lean in and capture her lips with mine, tasting the sweet sugar as our tongues briefly glance. "Mmm. I haven't even tasted this cake and I know you taste even better," I whisper.

Pulling away from her a moment later, I see Jasper across the table, looking as if he just got punched in the gut.

I tip my chin in his direction, in a silent, "What?"

He ignores me and grabs the plates to start giving out pieces of cake to the other guests.

I blink and I'm blanketed in darkness. An attempt to sit up and assess my surroundings is thwarted as I have a heavy arm thrown over my side.

_How long have I been asleep?_

"Jasper?" I ask.

He mumbles against my shoulder and presses himself against me.

_Oh. My. God._

"Jasper? Back up a little please?" The words squeak out and my breathing has accelerated as I try to calm down. I struggle with the need to immediately hop out of bed, knowing full well that in doing so, I will most likely injure myself.

"Jasper, _please!_" I beg, my voice a little louder this time.

"What? What's wrong?" he grumbles as his arm tightens around me.

Seconds later I feel a sharp intake of breath against my back and hear Jasper mutter, "Fuck! I'm sorry." He immediately releases me and scoots over towards the other side of the bed.

Turning over, I'm a little afraid of what I'll encounter, but I'm met with his back instead of his face.

"Jasper?" I whisper.

"I was sleeping and my mind was clearly elsewhere, I'm sorry-" he stammers into his pillow.

"Jasper, look at me."

Turning back onto his side, he looks at me, and even in the darkness I can see his wild eyes as they flit back and forth between my own.

"Jasper, are you...?" I let my voice trail off, not sure if I want to ask him. If I do, and he says he is, I don't know what that will mean for us. It will be incredibly awkward to continue with our fucked up arrangement, sharing a bed. I'm reluctant to let that go, and for that, I decide not to ask.

"Am I what?" he asks. His breathing has picked up a little and I'm certain he knows what I was about to ask him. That alone should be answer enough.

"Are you hungry? I never got around to making dinner. I just fell asleep after throwing a load of laundry in the wash."

He heaves a sigh and closes his eyes before shaking his head. "We had some leftovers in the fridge that I reheated. Didn't you eat?"

"No, I'm not hungry," I answer curtly.

"Okay," he replies. "You said you did a load of wash?"

_Fuck. The clothes are gonna mold if I don't get them in the dryer. _

"Yeah, I'm gonna switch it over now," I say, turning towards the edge of the bed.

"Don't worry, I'll get-"

"No, I need to do it. Just go back to sleep and I'll be back shortly."

With the aid of my cane, my trip down to the basement is much easier, and I quickly put the wet clothes in the dryer. My muscles are still a bit weak and climbing up the stairs is a bit of a challenge, but overall, the chore is much easier this time around. I groan at the thought of bringing the clothes back up, though, and groan louder when I realize that some things will need to be ironed after sitting in the dryer over night.

Returning to the bedroom, Jasper is still in the same position where I left him, only he has fallen back asleep. I hesitate for a moment before climbing back into bed, noticing that we had both been under the covers. Apparently, I was so dead to the world that I never felt Jasper pull the blankets out from underneath me to cover us.

Finally, I get back in bed, facing away from Jasper and feeling a little lost that his arm isn't around me. I'm not about to snuggle up to him though, that would be...awkward. Moments later, the decision is made for me as Jasper closes the distance between us and wraps his arm around my waist again, curling himself into my body. I feel relief at his touch and a tightening in my stomach when he breathes a sigh against my back and nuzzles his face into my shirt.

**O.o**

**A/N Thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing. **

**O.o**

Nothing boosts the male ego more than hearing your wife chuckle as you go to cop a feel while kissing every available inch of her neck.

"What exactly do you find so funny?" I ask as I move my lips down to her collarbone.

"Shhh...listen," she whispers, smiling.

My hands and my lips still as I strain to listen to whatever it is that caught Rosalie's attention, effectively removing it from me. And then I hear it. Soft humming coming from Bella's room.

I mistakenly thought Bella had already fallen asleep, but she's humming some melody to herself, every so often interjecting a "la, la" here or a "do, do" there.

Neither her mother, nor myself are musically inclined, so her constant singing or tinkering with all things musical seem to be a attribute she's picked up from Jasper.

"She's going to be a musician just like her uncle, you watch," Rose sighs.

"Hopefully she'll be more pleasant than her uncle," I grumble.

"Oh, shut it. He's a good guy," she replies with a swat to my head. "It's just his job to dislike the man his sister is interested in. Don't take it personal."

"You'd think after eight years, he would have grown comfortable with the idea that we're right for each other," I murmur, trying to pick up where I left off, nuzzling the skin above her breasts.

"Yeah...you'd think so," she replies, weaving her fingers into my hair.

I blink and I'm alone in bed, my heart sinking as I realize that I was dreaming once again. Looking at the clock and seeing that the midnight hour has past, my heart begins to break.

My Isabella would have been three-years-old today.

And damn it all if I don't hear her nighttime melody drifting into my room, bringing with it tears that wet my face and burn my eyes with sorrow.

Slowly lifting myself out of bed, I limp my way down the hall to her bedroom, half expecting her to be sitting up in her princess bed playing with a doll and humming the tune. Obviously, this is not the case. As quickly as possible in my lame state, I walk over to her bed to grab her pillow, swiftly bringing it up to my face to inhale her scent. Seven months after the accident and I still smell the strawberry scent of the baby shampoo we used to wash her hair with every night. It smells of innocence, joy, and the sweet love only a toddler knows how to give.

"Oh, my Bella. If you only knew how much your Daddy misses you," I cry into the pillow.

I can still hear the haunting melody when it hits me: Jasper is playing the piano downstairs in the living room. It's Bella's song, but he's managed to transpose her sweet humming into a heartbreaking strain on the piano. Not bothering to go back to my room to retrieve my cane, I carefully make my way to the stairs, slowly descending as I hear the music build, and I feel my heart break just a little bit more.

All the lights are off, save for the lamp on top of the piano; Jasper brought the old upright with him when he first moved in. It's certainly seen better days, but he keeps it tuned and maintained where it counts. The music he coaxes from the keys is nothing short of majestic; the song rending my heart to pieces right now is certainly no exception.

The volume of the music has covered up the sounds of Jasper's crying and I nearly lose it. He rarely lets his emotions show, being he always seems to be wrapped up in making sure I don't lose _my_ shit, so seeing him vulnerable makes my soul ache even more. My baby girl is gone, but I'm not _that_ much of a dick where I can't see that it hurts him, too.

Before I know it, I'm standing off to Jasper's side behind the bench when he startles, hastily wiping at his face with his arm and moving to close the lid on top of the keys.

"Hey, Em. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" he asks, his voice scratchy.

Reaching out, I keep him from closing the lid.

"Not really. I just woke up and noticed you weren't in bed. Heard you playing, and well..." I pause to swallow as I clutch Bella's pillow to my chest. "Mind if I join you?"

Jasper's eyes widen at my request and he slides over to his left, giving me a bit of space next to him on the bench.

"I'm amazed that you managed to compose an entire song out of her humming. It's beautiful," I whisper.

Clearing his throat, he replies, "It's depressing. I tried to make it sound brighter, like I imagine it sounded in her head, but I just can't. I...I just..." He lets his words trail off. He always struggles to say aloud that he misses them. I'm not sure if it's because it hurts him to verbalize his feelings, or if he's just afraid of upsetting me.

"You know it's okay to say that you miss her, Jazz," I choke out.

He nods. "She's your daughter, Em."

Leaning into him a little, I tell him, "She's your niece, too."

His face twists into a grimace. "It's her fucking birthday, and she should be here, with everyone fussing over her, dolling her up and blowing up balloons for a party and singing for her. She was just a baby, and I want her back, God damn it!" he sobs.

I let Bella's pillow fall against the piano keys as I wrap my arms around Jasper, pulling him against me like he's done for me so many times. His arms immediately wind around my shoulders as he presses his wet face into my neck, and for the first time in seven months, I comfort him as he weeps. Everything inside me is screaming for me to let loose as well, but I push it all back as I desperately try to soothe him.

My hand rubs circles on his back as his shoulders shake with the force of his sobbing, and I find myself nuzzling my face into his hair as I whisper a repetitive mantra, "I know...I know..." I know his grief is as fierce as my own, so it comes as no surprise that we stay like this for several long minutes. At long last, his tears slow and his shoulders still, as I unconsciously kiss the side of his head. It's almost a reflexive gesture, one to which I would not have given a second thought, until I feel the timid pressure of his lips against my neck.

Gasping, I pull back slightly as Jasper awkwardly backs off, turning back towards the piano.

"Thank you," he mumbles. "You have no idea how badly I needed that."

Focusing my eyes on the piano, I ask, "You wanna play some more?"

"I'm not sure my heart can take much more of that song," he whispers.

An idea occurs to me, bringing a rare smile to my face. "How about something upbeat and annoying?"

Turning to me, he raises an eyebrow.

I reach out to poke at a couple keys, trying to find the right three notes, hoping he'll pick up on the melody with so little help from me. Curses are muttered as I mess up several times before I'm finally successful.

"A, B, C...?" I sing.

A throaty chuckle falls from his lips as he grins and his hands reach out for the keys. "Easy as 1, 2, 3..."

Together we sing the melody my Bella so loved to sing and screech at the top of her little lungs, and we end up laughing several times before the song's conclusion.

Once the song is over, an uneasy silence settles over the room. The small lamp on top of the piano emits just enough light to make the rest of the room look completely black, and in that moment, I feel the same way. My baby girl should be having chocolate chip pancakes in a few hours and strawberry milk, making a horrific mess at the dining room table as she sings to herself. Instead, her lifeless body is in a tiny pine box six feet underground, cold and completely devoid of song. Where just a few minutes before, I was able to keep it together while Jasper broke down, I can no longer contain my grief as I clutch her pillow and begin to rock back and forth on the tiny amount of space I occupy on Jasper's piano bench.

Losing Rosalie was excruciating. Knowing my baby is dead is too fucking much to bear as I weep over birthday parties that will never be, no first days of school, no helping her with her homework, no kissing her boo-boos, no talking to her about boys, no proms, no driving lessons, no first dates, no graduations, no walking her down the aisle. Nothing but loss and crippling misery over the unfairness of it all. Burying my face in her pillow, I inhale deep the scent of her innocence, her laughter, her music, her complete lack of grace, and her infinite angelic beauty.

Jasper turns around to straddle the bench and pulls me in to his chest, wrapping his vice-like arms around my shoulders and burrowing his face in my hair as he cries with me. No words of comfort, for we both know they won't work, no useless platitudes of how she's in a better place or how it was just her time. Just the collective, heartbroken mourning of two people who both know that my baby should still fucking be there.

Eventually, our sobs trickle off to sniffles and hitched breaths as Jasper runs his hand up and down my spine, the warmth of his skin penetrating my shirt as I heave a contented sigh. Despite our problems in the past and all the shit we've been through since the accident, I'm so very grateful that he has the ability to calm me down. I sometimes wonder if he's some kind of latent hypnotist with the way he can practically manipulate my emotions. A chuckle rumbles through my chest as I picture him waving a pocket watch in front of me, urging, _Loook into my eyes...you _will_ chill the fuck out, Emmett..._

"What's so funny?" he asks, mumbling into my hair.

"Nothing, just a ridiculous train of thought."

A few minutes of silence pass before he whispers the words that chase away the tiny shred of humor I managed to cultivate in that brief moment. "I want you to come with me today, Emmett."

My entire body tenses against him and the muscles in my chest constrict as I breathe through my nose and attempt to swallow away the sudden anxiety.

"Please."

Pulling away from him, I hiss, "Fuck off." I make to get off the bench before his hand shoots out to grasp my arm.

"Please, Em, I can't do it by myself. It might even help you."

He's asking me to go to their graves with him. I have not been back since the funeral. Jasper likes to periodically stop by and visit, talking to them as if they could hear him. I can't bring myself to go back.

"How will seeing two slabs of stone and a patch of grass help me? By cementing the fact that they are still fucking dead? My wife and my daughter shouldn't be in a God damned grave, why the _fuck_ would I want to go see them in one?" I snap. "If it helps _you_ so much, why is it so hard for you to go alone?" I add.

He looks bewildered as his face contorts in a grimace, seemingly trying to rein in his emotions. "I can't explain it. Knowing their bodies are resting there kinda gives me the sense that they're not really completely gone. It's comforting to me. It's just hard doing that today...on Bella's birthday, it hurts, but I can't _not_ go."

"Don't you have to go in to the school later?" I ask, trying to change the subject and make him second guess his decision.

"It's Saturday, Emmett," he says, his voice flat.

So much for that.

"Fine, I'll go." My chest literally hurts as I agree to this heinous bullshit. I don't need any further reminders that my family is never coming back, but I can't see Jasper letting up on his crusade today.

Jasper visibly relaxes as his mouth forms a soft smile. "Thank you."

"Whatthefuckever, man. I need to go back to bed for a few more hours," I grumble, finally getting up from the bench.

I don't wait for a reply or for Jasper to follow as I head for the stairs, and subsequently, the bedroom.

Once I'm under the covers, I lie awake, listening to the creeks of the house and the hoot of the owl in the tree outside the window. I refuse to look at the clock, because the fact that I can't fall back asleep is fucking depressing and knowing it's that much closer to daybreak will just serve to piss me the hell off even more

I finally hear the sound of Jasper's bare footsteps coming up the stairs, and the groans and whines of the hardwood floor as he makes his way across the room.

Feeling the bed dip beneath his weight brings back the questions that have been plaguing me for the last month since my first physical therapy appointment with Edward. My mind is so desperate to wrap itself around something that's _not_ Rose or Bella that I speak before completely thinking things through.

"I'm quitting Physical Therapy," I announce as Jasper gets beneath the covers.

He immediately stills before he asks, "Why? I thought you've been making progress. You rarely use the cane any more and you've actually been exercising. Why screw up a good thing?"

This time I think before I open my mouth. "I think I can just handle this from my own now. I know what I have to do," I reply.

"Not that that's not a good thing, but is that the real reason?"

I swallow hard a couple of times before answering. "Edward's pretty fond of you, and I know it wouldn't be quite ethical for him to be seeing a family member of someone under his care, otherwise he would have already asked you out. If I was no longer a patient of his, he would no longer have that problem."

Jasper's so silent that I suspect he's holding his breath.

I realize I have my back to him and decide that this is the kind of conversation that should definitely be face to face, so I roll over and sit up, putting my back against the headboard. Jasper is still lying down and refuses to meet my eye.

"Look, I really don't care one way or the other, but if you kind of feel the same way, then I'm not gonna be the one keeping you from getting to know each other better."

He lets out a breath and finally looks at me.

Growing a bit impatient, I roll my eyes and ask, "Anything you'd like to confirm or deny, Jasper?"

Setting his jaw, he replies, "I'm gay."

I simply nod and pick at the comforter.

"You're not mad?" he whispers.

"Mad? No. That would be a prick thing to be mad over. I am upset that you didn't think you could tell me, though."

"If I told you, would you have let me into your bed?"

"I honestly don't know."

"There you go. What straight man would let the big bad gay sleep with him?" he asked with a sardonic chuckle.

"The idea is a bit awkward, I'll admit."

"Have I ever once gave you reason to question my integrity? I needed comfort, you needed comfort. It's not like I planned to rape you in your sleep or anything like that."

"I know, Jasper. The first time I considered the possibility that you were gay, I wondered why you hadn't made some kind of move on me. I realize that was a ridiculous notion and just because you may be into guys didn't mean you were into me, so I brushed it off."

Jasper scoffs and runs his hand through his hair. Before I can question him, he asks, "So Edward is fond of me, huh?" After a moment, he looks away from me and smiles.

"Oh yeah," I reply. "He's professional during our sessions, but there's no denying the looks he gives you when they're over."

He smiles bigger and says, "He's a hottie, no doubt about it."

I can't help the guffaw of laughter that erupts. "Oh yes, he's soooo dreamy," I croon, raising my voice just a little.

"Don't make me fuck up your other leg, asshole," he snorts.

Once we both regain our composure, I lie back down on the bed and turn on my side. "Well, then it's settled. I'm calling Edward first thing Monday morning."

My mind starts racing with thoughts of Jasper and Edward being a couple, going out on dates, having dinner over here, the inevitable phone call saying, "Don't wait up, Em", Jasper no longer sharing my bed, but Edward's.

That thought steals my breath. Not the thought of what they would be doing, but the thought that I would be once again sleeping alone. Would I be back at square one? Would the nightmares return? Who would I turn to in the middle of the night to chase the demons away?

It hasn't escaped my notice that Jasper is still on the other side of the bed, as opposed to spooned behind me with his arm draped over my waist. Looking over my shoulder, I see Jasper turned on his side facing away from me and I immediately wish I kept my fucking mouth shut. Ignorance truly is bliss, and now he's probably assuming that I want things to change.

I fucking _don't_.

Turning the idea over in my head for a good five minutes, I finally roll over on my opposite side and hitch over to his side of the bed. Finding no resistance, I curl my body into his and wrap my arm around his waist.

"Did I just fuck this up?" I ask, mumbling into the nape of his neck.

"Not at all," he whispers as he grasps my hand and pulls my arm tighter around his middle.

**O.o**

**A/N Thank you for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing.**

**A/N Two chaps in less than 24 hours? The boy must be on drugs! Well, I am, but I need em and for once they're working, so there you have it.**

**I apologize in advance for the flagrant use of a certain "f" word throughout this chapter. Must be the mood I'm in.**

**O.o**

"Please, baby..._please_. It's been too long," I groan into her shoulder as I shamelessly grind my erection into her ass. Her legs are clamped shut, preventing my wandering hand from slipping between them and convincing her to change her mind.

"No, Emmett. I just don't feel like it right now."

"Come on, Rosie...I'll be quick, I promise," I whine.

"Oh, yeah," she chuckles. "That's fucking romantic right there. Well, in that case..._hell_ no."

"Bella's still asleep, that _never_ happens. Shame to let that go to waste," I murmur as I kiss and tongue the soft skin of her shoulder blades.

"Emmett," she groans, and I know her resolve is weakening.

"I'm right here, baby," I whisper, sliding my hand down her arm and gently sucking at the back of her neck.

My hips have a mind of their own as I continue to thrust against her. I finally manage to part her legs and slip my hand between her thighs only to find her hand covering my goal. "Move your hand, Rosie," I urge as I suggestively stroke it, pressing her own hand against her.

"You know you're dreaming right?" she asks with a sigh.

"Shhh...please don't remind me. It's been too fucking long," I growl.

This is the first time during a dream in the past seven months that I actually realize I'm dreaming, and it's making it really difficult to enjoy the rare stimulation. "For fuck's sake, move your hand, Rose," I beg, continuing to rub her, groaning at how I want to be stroking her soft, wet heat and not the firmness of her hand and wrist. "Please," I rasp, gripping her wrist. It doesn't feel quite right.

That hasn't, however, stopped me from rubbing myself against her, the friction too fucking exquisite to let go. My mouth continues to move across the bare skin of her shoulders and neck, biting and sucking as she whimpers and gasps.

"Why don't you turn over?" I ask.

"Because I don't want you to stop," she groans in response.

I'm basically dry-humping her butt and rubbing her fucking arm as I kiss and nibble the skin immediately aligned with my mouth. It's not like I have her legs thrown over my shoulders, relentlessly pounding her G-spot, but it is, after all, a dream, and I'm pretty damn close to getting off, so what the hell, right?

Her groans get deeper as she urges, "Fuck, Emmett. Don't stop...please, don't stop," bucking her ass against me as I continue to thrust against her, my boxer-clad cock slipping perfectly between her cheeks, as I continue to rub between her legs.

I feel the tell-tale tingle and heat building, signaling my climax as her cries continue to deepen.

I blink and it's not Rosalie. It's not fucking Rosalie that I'm wrapped around furiously trying to deliver our simultaneous orgasms. It's not Rosalie's wrist I'm gripping in my hand, but something else altogether.

And I'm too fucking gone to give a shit.

"God damn it, I'm fucking coming," I growl as I bite the nape of Jasper's neck, squeezing his erection through his boxers with my hand as my body jerks against him. As shamelessly as I rubbed against him, he does the same, grinding his hard cock into my hand and his ass into my hips.

Spasms wrack my body as my orgasm hits, and I whimper into Jasper's skin as my flesh is lit aflame with the intensity. "Fucking shit...oh my God..."

I feel like a teenager again, jizzing in my boxers, but I don't fucking care because it's been way too long since I've felt this good.

As I try to catch my breath, my hand slides up Jasper's erection and I note a small bit of moisture in the fabric of his briefs.

"Did you?" I pant.

"No," he rasps.

I know this is Jasper in my bed, Jasper whose ass I just literally got off on, and whose erection I've stroked. Reality hasn't quite set in, apparently, as I slip my hand past the waist band of his briefs to grasp his dick.

He gasps, "Oh my fucking _God_!" just as I begin to furiously jerk him off.

While I work, I place my barely open mouth against his shoulder and his upper body twitches. Assuming it wasn't a bad thing, I decide it might spur him to completion if I continue where I left off, kissing, licking, nibbling, biting his neck and shoulders.

"Christ...Emmett...holy _shit_, I'm gonna come..." he whimpers.

His swollen cock is slick with the precum that continues to leak from his slit, making little wet noises as I stroke him.

"Yeah...yes...I'm_ fuck_...coming..._uh_!" he grunts as his knees curl into his body, sandwiching my arm between his thighs and his ribs, nearly crushing me.

Pulling back my hand is a tremendous feat, but when I finally succeed, I'm immediately scrambling back to the other side of the bed, reality fucking settling in.

"Holy shit...what the fuck just happened?" I whisper as Jasper rolls over onto his back, panting. Several minutes pass as he works to catch his breath and I fear I'm having a panic attack.

"Emmett," Jasper's tone is even, steady, the kind of voice that talks jumpers off ledges. "We both just woke up and it just happened, okay? No need to freak out about it." Taking a few deep breaths, he mutters, "Fuck."

"What the everloving_fuck_ did I just do?" I groan, covering my face with my hands.

One of my hands is slightly tacky and that causes me to snap.

"God _damn it_!" I yell, kicking back the covers and jumping out of bed. Of course, I trip and fall, and of course, Jasper is right there, trying to help me to my feet.

Once I'm finally upright, I make to hobble out of the room before Jasper grabs me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. For a split second, I think he's trying to be some screwed up kind of snuggly, but then I realize he's just trying to keep me in place.

"Let go, Jazz," I growl.

"Chill the fuck out, Emmett," he commands directly in my ear.

Those words bring back the Hypno-Jasper with the pocket watch image and I'm suddenly laughing, my upper body shaking with the force.

"While not exactly what I was after, that's certainly an improvement," Jasper mutters.

My hysteria dies down and I'm slumping in his arms. "Jazz, I'm sorry. I don't know what the fuck happened."

He sighs against my back. "You don't have to apologize. There's no need to," he swallows before continuing, "read anything into it. It just happened. You were there, I was there, and it just...was."

"I was dreaming," I whisper.

"I know."

"But, I was fully awake when I..." I can't bring myself to finish the sentence, my body heating up with humiliation as the nerves in my body continue to pulse in the wake of my climax.

"You're a respectful motherfucker and refused to leave someone hanging. No one will fault you for that, least of all, me," he chuckles.

"Asshole," I grunt. "Kindly let me go so I can go shower and wash away my embarrassment and your..._fuuuuck_." I lean forward trying to break out of my Jasper cage and groan at the fact that his fucking cum is still drying on my hand. "Let me go!"

His arms fall away from me and I make a bee-line for the bathroom.

In the shower, I scrub my skin so hard that I'm surprised I haven't bored my way down to the bone.

It was one thing for me to continue grinding myself against him. I was too fucking close to coming when I finally realized it was him; I couldn't just _stop_. I have no excuse, however, for why I got him off. He was clearly okay with me rubbing him on top of his underwear. If I was, indeed, simply a respectful motherfucker, I could have just kept that up. Why the fuck did I give him a God damned hand job? And it didn't even take much, which means I was fucking good at it.

_Well, duh – you have plenty of experience jerking yourself off, dipshit._

I scrub hard enough to make my skin turn scarlet.

**O.o**

"Are you okay?" Jasper asks as I slam the truck door shut.

"Fucking drop it, Jazz," I mumble as I reach for my seat belt.

I couldn't bring myself to eat breakfast after my shower. Once I got dressed, I stayed curled up in bed until Jasper came in and announced that he was ready to go.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," he whispers.

"How the hell can I be alright, Jasper?"

"I just thought-"

"Thought what?" I interrupt. "Thought that I would be okay with the fact that I dry-humped my dead wife's brother like a fucking Labrador? Or maybe you thought I would be okay with the fact that I also gave my dead wife's brother a God damned hand job, because I am, after all, a respectful motherfucker."

After a few seconds of silence, Jasper says, "I was referring to us going to their graves." He clears his throat and keeps his eyes straight ahead. "But thank you for making _me_ feel like shit for something _you_ did. That certainly makes my fucking day."

"Fuck you, Jazz. I was half asleep, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. You could have spoke up and stopped me, you know."

"Have you ever been ten seconds away from an orgasm and suddenly said, 'We shouldn't be doing this, please stop'? I couldn't fucking _think_, Em. So fuck _you_!" he snaps.

"Yeah, well-"

"You know," he cuts me off, "for someone who's so adamant about dropping the subject, you're doing a piss poor job."

I huff and turn my body slightly to face the window. A childish reaction, yes, but I'm so pissed off, I'm seeing red.

The ride continues in silence, the only sound is Jasper breathing hard and deep through his nose.

I shouldn't have snapped at him. The whole fiasco was my fault, after all, but I can't bring myself to apologize and I'm so nauseous over the whole thing that I'm afraid to open my mouth and say anything at all. So, it's a blessing, oddly enough, when I see the cemetery come into view, giving us both the opportunity to focus our attention on something else.

Our grief.

When Jasper cuts the engine, I begin to hyperventilate, unsure of how I'll be able to pull myself from the truck.

"You didn't bring your cane."

In between shallow breaths, I reply, "I forgot it."

Tears fall from my eyes when I feel Jasper's hand on my shoulder, squeezing the muscle and rubbing a spot with his thumb. I start to sob uncontrollably when his hand is suddenly gone and he exits the truck. Too quick for me to see, he's already on my side, opening my door and offering a hand to help me from my seat.

"I can't do it, Jazz. I just can't." My voice sounds like that of a child after a long crying jag, hitched breathing and choked words.

"You can do it with me, Emmett," he assures, that eerily calm voice working it's magic as I start taking deep breaths.

Taking his hand, I carefully slide out of the truck cab, wincing as I put almost all my weight on my bad leg.

"Careful now," Jasper urges, leaning into my side and helping support my weight.

"I'm fine," I mutter as I straighten up.

Aside from its eternal inhabitants, the cemetery is empty, so I cringe when I hear the giggle of a little girl not too far behind me at the playground across the street.

_Who builds a playground across the street from a fucking cemetery?_ I think to myself.

My heart clenches when I hear the sound of a woman's voice shouting, "You better run before Daddy catches you! Hurry! He's coming!" The little girl squeals in laughter, accompanied by the playful growl of the daddy that has apparently caught up with her, undoubtedly scooping her up and swinging her into the air.

Jasper must be taking in the same thing as he grabs my arm and attempts to hurry us along the path to our destination.

As we continue to walk, I think back on the many times Rose, Bella and I did that very same thing, playing and chasing in the park, little Bella running as fast as her chubby legs would take her, Rose urging her on to safety as I run in slow motion, giving her the false hope of being able to escape.

"Ha, ha, ha! As if you could outrun me!" I shout as I snatch her off the grass, swinging her around, causing her to emit peals of laughter and Rose to shout, "Oh, no!" as she laughs at our display.

I blink and I'm in a hospital room, Rose grinding out obscenities as the doctor and nurses try to ignore her foul mouth.

"One more big push for me, Rosalie," the doctor commands.

Holding her knee back in one hand as I grasp her hand that's trying desperately to break my own, I start counting, "One, two, three, four..." meeting her furious gaze as her face contorts in a grimace.

"I hate you," she hisses.

Instead of being insulted, I smile and kiss her forehead. "And I love you, baby. You're doing so good, don't stop...five, six, seven-"

I'm cut off by the most incredible sound I've ever heard. The pitiful cry of my daughter, my Isabella announcing her arrival.

"Just a little more, Rosalie, her shoulders are almost free," the doctor says.

With one last bone crunching squeeze of my hand, Rosalie cries out and I watch the doctor who looks like he just caught the game winning touchdown, the game ball being Isabella Marie McCarty.

She's covered in blood and fluid, her head's misshapen, her skin is wrinkled and her body twitches while she wails.

I can't contain my tears as I declare, "She's so fucking beautiful."

I blink and I'm staring at her name, engraved in cold, unforgiving stone next to the twin bearing her mother's name engraved in the same fashion.

Feeling my body give out, I hit my knees, sobbing as Jasper meets me on the ground wrapping himself around me. We continue to cling to each other rocking and crying until our tears are exhausted and our voices raspy.

Something catches my eye and I ask, "Jasper? Did you bring those?"

On Rosalie's grave is a single red rose. On Bella's, a calla lily.

"No, I didn't," he murmurs into my shirt. "The same two flowers are there every time I come by. I thought they were fake, but the caretaker tells me that new ones are placed there daily. He never sees by who, though. It's nice to know that someone is coming by every day, stopping by to pay their respects."

"Are you trying to make me feel bad for not doing the same thing?"

With a deep sigh, he replies, "Not at all. I was just making an observation. That's all."

"Any idea who it is? One of the teachers from school? Your parents pay a florist to do it, do you think?"

"I have no clue."

I crawl a little closer to Bella's headstone and lay down on the grass, fingering the white flower placed there. "Happy Birthday, baby girl."

**O.o**

**A/N Thank you for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing.**

**O.o**

Groaning, I slowly shuffle toward the door and yank it open, not caring that it isn't my house and that I should have probably let Jake answer. I rub my eyes and grumble, "what?" not even bothering to see who's knocking.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Rose?" I croak, as my wife's voice registers and my eyes snap into focus.

Her head is hanging, her arms are crossed over her chest, and she won't even look up at me.

"Run out of people to yell at?" I want to be mad, and I attempt to inject just a bit of venom in my words, but I fail as my eyes fill with tears.

I've been at Jake's place almost six months to the day. Six months since she screamed at me, calling me a heartless prick for not being as upset as she was that she hadn't been able to get pregnant, for not being more proactive. We had been trying for two years to have a baby, and she had finally decided that she wanted us to see a fertility specialist. According to her, I was a bastard for not wanting to try that hard. I figured, if a kid was meant to be, then it would just happen. The last thing I wanted was for her to get some kind of shot and end up pregnant with quadruplets or something.

My heart's in my throat right now because I've been waiting for the "D" word ever since the day she told me to get the fuck out.

"Baby, I'm...oh my God, I'm so sorry..." she sobs as her shoulders begin to shake.

I quickly pull her into a tight embrace as I struggle not to burst into tears myself. "Shhh, Rose. It's okay, baby." I frantically pepper her face and hair with kisses, so fucking grateful to have her back in my arms again.

"Nothing else matters, Em, I'm so fucking sorry. Come back? Please?" she whispers, clinging to my A-shirt, wetting the fabric with her tears.

I can't bring myself to speak, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and fucking things up. Instead, I pull her into the house, shutting the door behind us before pulling her back into my arms and sealing her mouth with mine. She whimpers, grabbing the hem of my shirt, trying to push it up my body.

Our hands are frantic, grabbing, pulling, ripping fabric from our bodies, desperate to reclaim each other. Breathing in deep, I smell the funk of fitful sleep coming off my body, and it's quickly replaced with the sweet scent of her skin. Combined, it's the scent of desperation.

I lift her by her ass off the floor and dump her on the couch, clawing at her pants, leaving red marks on her thighs as I tear her pants from her and throw them toward the coffee table.

"Emmett, I love you," she sobs as I my teeth sink into her collarbone, bruising her delicate skin.

Whimpering into her flesh, I awkwardly kick off my gym shorts, remembering that I neglected to wear anything beneath them, and I feel grateful for it. Not bothering to see if she's ready for me, I thrust my erection inside her, causing her to cry out.

I move my mouth from her shoulder to her face, murmuring, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she whimpers, rocking her hips against me, and I begin to move.

Our lovemaking isn't slow. It isn't gentle. We don't take the time to savor. We're enveloped in sweat and we're in constant motion. Thrusting, bruising, biting, arching.

I blink and I sit up in bed, my face slick with tears as I whip my head about, wondering where the fuck I am.

I'm no longer in Jake's living room. I'm in my bed, and I see blond hair peeking out from beneath the covers. Sighing with relief, I reach out to stroke the top of my wife's head.

"Hey, baby," I whisper.

Humming deep, she shifts around and the sheet slips off her shoulders.

Correction. _His_ shoulders.

"Jasper," I groan, dragging my hand down my face.

"Yeah?" he mutters, smiling sleepily.

When his eyes focus on me, he rolls over and sits up, letting the sheet fall off his body. My eyes unconsciously flit over his bare torso, lighting on a scar just below his left nipple. I stifle a chuckle as I remember how he got that scar, the three of us hiking in high school, when he tripped and fell, catching himself on a tree branch. He had cursed, yelling, "Motherfucking tree tried to rip my heart out!"

Following the path of my eyes, Jasper covers the scar with his hand. "Yeah, that's an ugly one, isn't it?" he snickers.

I shake my head and swipe my hands across my face, attempting to remove the residual sorrow from the haunting memory of my reunion with Rose.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

"Bad dream, is all," I grunt as I dig my fingers into my hair, vigorously scratching my scalp.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks, pulling his knees into his chest and leaning back against the headboard.

Instead of just snapping, "No," I decide that it may not hurt to humor him for once.

"I um...it..." I stop for a moment, remember the look in her eyes when she told me she was sorry. I almost sink into the headboard when I feel Jasper's hand gently stroke my shoulder. Reaching across with my opposite hand, I cover his with mine and squeeze it. His touch seems to make it easier to just be; makes it easier to feel and to breathe.

"I dreamt of the day she took me back." Swallowing hard, I add, "After our separation."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, squeezing my shoulder.

"Not your fault. I was stubborn. It's just reliving that time with her gone now, makes those months feel so much worse. They were wasted just because I wouldn't go to the fucking doctor with her." As much as I try to keep them at bay, the tears start wetting my face again, and my chest begins to hurt.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Em. I knew she wanted children more than anything, but that didn't mean that you had to bend over backwards to give that to her. Some things can't be helped, and who's to say that seeing a special doctor would have given her what she wanted?"

My whole body begins to shake as the tears flow freely.

"Come here."

Jasper turns his body toward me and pulls me into his arms, my face pressing into his bare chest. Our positioning is awkward only in the sense that my frame is so much larger than his. I can't discount, however, how right it feels, and I can't imagine getting this level of comfort from someone else; certainly not from a therapist.

One of his arms is wrapped tightly around my lower back, and his other hand makes slow, rhythmic sweeps from the back of my head down my spine. In no time, I'm sighing as my sobs subside and I lose myself in his sleepy warmth, burrowing my wet face into his skin.

"Thank you."

He nods with his lips pressed to the top of my head, and I can't help but hum against him, tightening my hold around his body.

"Emmett," he whispers. "Do you...want to talk about yesterday morning?"

I hold my breath at his question, because in our current position, that is precisely the _last_ thing I want to think about. The awkwardness of that situation was almost as bad as the guilt I feel for basically using Jasper for sexual release.

Shaking my head against him, I say, "I'm so sorry."

"That's what I wanted to talk about, though. I don't want you to feel bad about it, okay? It just happened."

"I took advantage of you, and I cheated on my wife with her brother. How should I not feel bad about it?'

He sighs deeply, and I can almost feel him roll his eyes.

"I know you're bigger than me, but I can take care of myself. If I didn't want you to touch, me, I would have stopped you." He pauses before continuing. "And as far as the cheating bit goes, the harsh reality of our situation is that you are no longer married."

I bristle at his words, but don't move out of his arms. "And you're an asshole," I hiss.

"If that's the case, why are you still letting me hold you?"

Sniffling and clearing my throat, I answer, "Because this feels nice. I can't explain it."

"I can."

"I'm not gay, Jasper."

"Taking pleasure in something, even if it's something you're not used to, doesn't have to have a label. Gay, straight, bisexual...it doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not into guys."

"Did it feel good?"

I can't answer him.

"You can't lie and say it didn't."

"Why does it matter? Do you want it to matter?"

Holding my breath, I'm terrified of his answer. I have no idea what I will do if he says "yes".

"I just want to help you make sense of whatever you may be feeling. You have enough to deal with without having to feel guilty about something you can't control."

"You're trying to help me make sense of something that's not there. Even if I was struggling with some kind of homosexual attraction, if I wanted to badly enough, I _could_ control it, because I don't want it."

"If that's the case, why are you still letting me hold you?" he repeats.

"Because I'm not the one trying to read something more into it," I growl, pulling myself away from him.

Getting out of bed, I tell him that I'm going for a walk. I don't even bother changing clothes, and just pull on my tennis shoes, heading downstairs and out the door.

I'm nearly two blocks away when I realize that I left my cane at home and I'm not limping.

O.o

I'm used to running. It's taking all the will power I have to not break out into a run. There's a dull, barely there ache in my hip reminding me that if I push it, I will have to change my mind about quitting Physical Therapy and will most likely be right back at square one with my recovery. With that in mind, I merely pick up the pace of my walk.

I would make granny mall walkers proud, I just know it.

It feels good to be moving like this again, but I find myself aggravated that I left my MP3 player at the house because now, I'm just left with my thoughts – and they're confusing as fuck.

I never once found myself attracted to another man. Well, Rose had a thing for Johnny Depp, and I'm man enough to admit that the dude is hot, but other than that? Never. So, why this thing with Jasper? Why the hell did I have to go and fuck things up yesterday? I don't lack that much self control where I couldn't have made myself stop once I realized what was actually happening. I don't.

Would I have done that if Jasper hadn't told me he was gay?

And Jasper, talking about labels and trying to help me "make sense" of what I'm feeling – what sense is there to make? I was horny that morning, he was there, he didn't object, and he was responsive.

Very responsive.

I've been hard enough to hammer stone on many occasions, but I dare say that Jasper's erection yesterday morning put even my most insane arousal to shame. And the way he shivered slightly with almost every touch, the way his body twisted and squirmed just the smallest little bit, seeming to move every which way against my body, it made me wonder if he had been like that with others.

Or if it was just me.

Rose was always very vocal in bed, telling me what she wanted, crying out even when we were trying to be quiet, cursing, and saying things that would make a trucker blush. Knowing I brought that out of her was such a fucking rush. Often, hearing her sounds of pleasure was enough to make me come. Hearing Jasper in my arms as I jerked him off, hearing him yell out with his release, the deep, gritty sound of his sleep-roughened voice was indescribable. I can't imagine what effect the sound would have had on me if I hadn't already climaxed.

I don't want to imagine it.

Luckily, I'm not able to give it much more thought, because my stomach is growling and I am now standing in front of Carver Cafe.

Bacon, eggs, coffee.

Drown it all out.

Hearing a familiar voice behind me catches me off guard, though.

"Morning, Emmett!"

I look over my shoulder and smile at Edward, relieved to see him and to have an almost immediate out to my problem. "Mornin', man. How goes it?"

"Not too bad. Nice to see you out – and without your cane, no less!" He grins and claps me on the back.

"Miracles happen every day, right?" I offer with a grin.

"That, they do," he replies, returning my grin.

"You thinking about grabbing some grub? I was just about to get me some breakfast."

"Well, I'm not exactly here to do the Limbo," he chuckles.

"Funny," I snicker, rolling my eyes. "Well, if you want, you're free to join me. I have something I would like to discuss with you, anyway."

**O.o**

**A/N Sorry for the brevity of this chapter. With my mother's passing, and our upcoming move, it's difficult to get in the frame of mind to write this story. That being said, I hope you enjoyed, and as always, thank you for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing. **

**Warning: Some readers may find what occurs in this chapter to be gratuitous. Believe me when I say it's not. Regardless of it's nature, it was quite painful to write.**

**O.o**

The clock is ticking. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly and I'm suddenly hearing Rose's voice in my head. "A watched pot never boils." I don't imagine that would actually pertain to this case since water isn't boiling, but I guess the concept is universal.

_Did the second hand just move backward?_

I'm pretty sure it did.

Breaking up the monotony, I look at my cell phone.

No texts.

No missed calls.

Nobody gives a shit.

The only one who truly does is 45 minutes late.

This is what I get. This is my penance. I deserve this torture.

My cell phone vibrates, skittering across the table seconds before the annoying ring begins to peal. My first instinct is to snatch it up and answer it, knowing who the voice on the other line would belong to, but I hesitate, not wanting to seem like I've been waiting for some kind of word from him.

Which I have been.

_What have I done?_

Without me even realizing it, the call has gone to voice mail, and I finally grab the phone to check the message.

"Hey, Em. I should have called earlier. Sorry. Ended up having a few drinks and lost track of time." He pauses to belch, which turns into a drunk chuckle. "Um, yeah." I hear Edward's voice in the background. "Oh yeah. That was sexy." Jasper goes on to say that he's had too much to drink to be able to drive and they're taking a cab back to Edward's place but he'll be home bright and early.

I knew this would happen eventually. It shouldn't be a big deal. I shouldn't be this fucking dependent.

I'd like to be able to say that my conversation with Edward at the café several weeks ago had gone differently. I'd like to be able to say that I had the courage to discuss my confused feelings with him and ask his advice on how to sort through it all. I'd like to say that I acknowledged to him and myself that there was an underlying reason for my unease in regards to what happened with Jasper, that it wasn't just because of the guilt I felt from betraying my wife. I'd like to say that I'm not a fucking pussy, but I can't.

I told him I wanted to quit physical therapy because I felt confident in my progress and wanted to work on my continued recovery on my own and become independent. He balked at first, worried that I'd relapse and start shirking my exercises. He shut up when I gave him Jasper's cell number. I hesitated in doing so, knowing I should have asked Jasper's permission first, but when I confessed to him what I did once I returned home, he wasn't mad at me.

They went out for dinner that evening. I didn't have a problem with it. He came back smiling and his eyes fucking twinkled. It was the first time I've seen him genuinely happy in a long time. He even held me tighter in bed that night.

The next morning after Jasper went to work I got behind the steering wheel of Rose's car for the first time since the accident, and made a trip to the cemetery alone. After driving up the path, I had to stifle the urge to vomit before finally getting out and approaching the gravesite. It was exactly the same as when I visited the first time with Jasper. The grass was the same shade of green, and there were fresh flowers on both graves.

I stayed there for almost two hours talking with my favorite girls. If I kept my eyes closed long enough, I could pretend that they were actually sitting there with me. I could almost hear the chuckle in Rose's voice when I told her that I set up her brother with my physical therapist. It made me wonder if she had known his secret.

Rose and Jasper were always close. Certainly she would have leant a compassionate ear if he had decided to come out to her. Imagining that this was the case, my respect for her grew since she didn't share that information with me, knowing full well that it wasn't her story to tell. I could also imagine Bella's sweet voice cheering that she would have two uncles instead of just one, and I knew that through a child's innocence, the relationship would never be questioned. I hate so bad that Jasper never got to know that pure, unconditional acceptance from someone so close to him.

I left a small bouquet of daisies between both headstones. Some part of me just wanted the mystery visitor to know that they weren't the only ones who came by to pay their respects.

The first time Edward came over for dinner, I was totally okay with it.

Not so much the third time.

For reasons I didn't want to acknowledge, it bothered me a hell of a lot when I caught the two of them kissing in the kitchen. Edward had Jasper backed into the island, pressing the full length of his body against him. The kiss was slow and sensual, and I hated intruding on such a personal moment, but I couldn't make myself duck back into the dining room. Jasper practically melted into the counter top and he whimpered, a sound I almost didn't hear.

Jasper didn't hold me quite as tight that night in bed, and I knew it was only a matter of time before we no longer shared a bed, before I was alone again.

Tonight is that time. After more than three months of having Jasper in my bed, chasing away the nightmares, I will be alone. Trying to keep my emotions under control I send him a text.

_Just let me know that you've arrived safely._

A few seconds after sending the text, I'm shocked when the phone rings again.

This time I pick up.

"Hey!" he crows in my ear. "I thought you were avoiding me."

_I was._

"I was in the restroom," I lie.

"You got my message? You gonna be okay tonight?"

"Yeah, I got it. And I'll—" I clear my throat. "I'll be alright."

"Ed, hold up." His voice is muffled; he must have his hand over the mouthpiece. "Ignore my message. I'm coming home."

My first instinct is to sigh with relief and tell him that I'll wait up. When I hear Edward's voice asking what's wrong, though, I immediately feel guilty.

"Jazz, don't do that. I said I'll be fine. Go to Edward's and I'll see you in the morning."

"Em, it's not a big deal. We were going to his place because it's closer."

Edward's voice is obviously drunk and the flirtatiousness has cranked up to maximum levels. I can imagine he has his face right next to Jasper's because his voice is crystal clear. "Oh, is _that_ the reason? I thought it was because you couldn't wait to get me alone and fuck me."

I almost drop the phone.

"Oh my God. You didn't need to hear that." Jasper's voice sounds like it has quickly sobered up. "I'm sorry."

_So am I._

Instead of ending the conversation and hanging up, something occurs to me.

"That's actually kinda funny. For some reason, I thought it would have been the other way around."

"The other way ar…huh?" Several seconds pass and I can almost hear the light bulb turn on over his head. "Oh, you mean you thought that _he_ would….ha ha ha. No. You'd be wrong about that."

_Unexpected._

"Well, it sounds like you have somewhere to be. Be safe and I'll see you in the morning."

Edward announces that the cab has arrived.

"Good night, Emmett," Jasper says.

When I hang up, it's all I can do to not crush the phone in my hand.

I shouldn't be upset that Jasper is out having a good time. If anyone deserves to, he does. Since the accident, he has been utterly selfless, sacrificing his social life, his independence, his chance at happiness just to take care of me.

I shouldn't dread falling asleep alone in an empty bed. I should be happy for him that he won't be doing that very thing. I should be happy that he will be sharing a bed with someone who feels the same way he does, who is able to give him what he wants.

I shouldn't want to fucking cry right now.

**O.o**

I sit bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat. A scream is cut short in my throat when I realize I'm in my room and see the sunlight pouring through the drapes. My heart is pounding and I know something horrible was happening not two seconds before, but the edges of the dream are blurred and quickly fading away.

_Not being able to remember a nightmare is as good as not having it_, I tell myself. When I turn to my left and see Jasper's side of the bed is still made, I know those words are a lie.

The tears fall and my heart aches and everything comes rushing back. I'm right back in the morgue with the bodies of Rose and Bella, trying to figure out how it was that I survived and why I couldn't be with them. I'm right back at the funeral, glaring at their caskets and restraining myself from strangling the preacher for spewing out garbage about shit I no longer believe in. I'm back in a wheelchair, causing Jasper nothing but grief, being nothing more than an inconvenience that he has a familial obligation to.

Everything I have ever loved is gone and I'm so fucking alone.

Throat-tearing wails rip out of my chest and I feel the muscles straining in my neck as I scream. I'm shaking on the bed as everything becomes a blur and I start to rock, my body trying to diffuse my despair.

I think of the bottle of Percocet in my bathroom, nearly full save for the one tablet Jasper slipped me the morning of my first PT session with Edward.

_I can take the entire bottle and feel absolutely nothing. I can fall asleep and wake up with Rose and my Bella. I'll no longer be a burden to anyone because I'll be gone. _

The idea begins to take shape and become a very real thing inside my head and I start to get up out of bed before I see Jasper in the doorway.

"What the hell happened, Em? Are you okay?"

"I want it gone. All of it."

"Fuck." Jasper quickly climbs in bed and pulls me against him. It's amazing that despite our difference in size, how well he fits around me. He's leaner, more slender, and I'm taller and bulky, yet he so easily pulls me into his lap as if our physical selves have somehow been switched.

"I know I should have come home last night," he murmurs into my hair.

That just makes me cry harder. "I can't keep doing this. It's not your fucking job to take care of me. I just want it to stop."

He hugs me tighter. "I want to make it stop."

_Jesus, how I wish it were that simple._

I breathe his scent deep into my lungs and it's foreign. I've been surrounded by Jasper's scent for months, I'd recognize it anywhere, and I recognize it on him now, but it's not just his scent I'm inhaling. I pull back, wanting to tear myself away from it, away from the scent that clings to him, that he had been wrapped in for who knows how many hours.

I hate how it makes me sound like a nagging wife, but the growling words slip out before I can stop them.

"You smell like him."

He pulls back at my words and our faces aren't even inches apart. My breaths come hard and heavy through my nose and I feel my body tremble.

"Jasper, I can't…" I'm so fucking lost, I can't even complete my thought, let alone form the words, and I do the one thing that will surely fuck things up forever.

I kiss him.

"Oh, Jesus," he whimpers against my mouth, and I grip his head in my hands, my fingers tightening around his blond waves and I kiss him harder.

I feel damp skin against my nose as it brushes his cheek and I realize he's crying. It makes me hate myself so much more for this incredibly fucked up thing I'm doing, but I can't make myself stop.

The next time his mouth opens, my tongue licks inside, tasting him and it makes me want more. I can't fucking believe that I want more and my torment bursts forth in a moan. When I start to push him back on the bed, he startles me by doing that very thing to me. His strength surprises me when he pins my hands above my head and starts kissing my neck. I'm so fucking overwhelmed and a tiny voice is grating in the back of my brain, rebelling against what is happening to me, but my body ignores it as my hips raise off the bed, seeking Jasper's friction.

"Shit," I gasp when Jasper pushes my sweat-soaked t-shirt up to my chin. His mouth is suddenly everywhere, his lips brushing my abs, his tongue tasting my nipples, his teeth nipping my hip bones. My lower body has a mind of its own as it bucks off the mattress and it is impossible to hide the fact that I now have an almost painful erection, and it's all because of another man.

"Emmett," he sighs into my belly as his fingers trace the waist band of my shorts.

The thought of him removing my shorts sets off a mini panic attack and I grab his shoulders, tugging him back up to my face. Not missing a beat, he kisses me again as he settles his weight between my legs and my hips ignore my previous panic, continuing to buck against him.

"Off," he whispers, tugging at my shirt, and I awkwardly twist my body to remove it, not even completely successful as it gets hooked on my right elbow after I tug it over my head. He sits upright and peels off his own shirt, exposing his lean, toned body before lowering himself back down to make a skin-to-skin connection. The sensation is more overwhelming than anything else, and as I'm left in just my shorts, Jasper in just his jeans, our bodies writhe and twist, my hands sweeping down his back as his hips roll into my own, pressing his arousal into mine.

"Oh my God…Jasper."

When he removes his mouth from mine to suck at my neck, the needy whimpering sounds slip from my mouth unobstructed, and they're so foreign and wanton in my own ears that I somehow feel disconnected, when I should feel the exact opposite.

My thoughts drift to images of Jasper in Edward's bed, his hands and mouth pleasuring him, his body penetrating him, making him cry out his name.

I never wanted this. I never wanted something like this with another man, and I never wanted something like this with Jasper, but I'm enraged at the thoughts of him with someone else and it's all I can do to not scream out and claim him as my own. Jasper is all I have left and I'm desperate to do whatever I have to keep him, and the thought crashes over me that that is all this is, that it's just me desperate to keep him happy, to keep him close and it's not just because I want it or want more with him.

None of my thoughts, however, can keep my orgasm from approaching, and my body thrashes as I feel the heat swell and spread. Jasper brings his lips to my ear and his breaths stutter across my skin.

"I want you to come for me. I want you to come because of me and know that it's me that does this to you."

Bright lights burst behind my shut eyelids as I turn my head to capture his lips with mine, pitifully whimpering into the kiss as my climax erupts and my body seizes.

He growls against me and picks up the pace of his thrusting hips, chasing his own orgasm, moments later, shuddering and panting against me.

Burying my face in his neck, the tears start all over again.

I can't make them stop.

**O.o**

**A/N Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyer owns the Twilight Saga, all Twilight characters and related references. I don't own a damn thing.**

**Warning: This chapter is short, for which I apologize. As most of you know, my online time is limited as we prepare for our move and I can only ask for your understanding.**

**O.o**

"You want to tell us what brings you here, Emmett?"

I can't bring myself to look at the guy. He's so comically serious, and I have a feeling that bursting out in a fit of laughter might not be all that appropriate in this setting. So, instead of looking up, and catching another glimpse of the 70s-porn-star-Reno-911 copstache, I decide to repeat the words all too recently force fed down my throat with a red hot pitchfork.

"Because I'm miserable and won't be happy until everyone around me is miserable? Because I'm a selfish prick who can't look past his own needs? Or it's probably because I refuse to accept what happened to my wife and daughter and therefore will never be able to move on. Take your pick."

"That sounds like something you've heard from someone else, Emmett."

Chief Swan is a smart one.

In all seriousness, he's right.

The morning after my sordid tryst with Jasper, I couldn't bring myself to speak to him. That didn't stop him from cheerfully chattering at every available moment about nothing, making every excuse to touch me and even kiss me in passing. I never brushed him off, but I felt so awkward. Even now, I can't come to grips with the fact that I may be bisexual. I'm not gay. Women turn me on, there's no doubt. There's also no doubt that Jasper turns me on at well, but I can't accept it.

What shocks me is how quick Jasper was to dissolve things with Edward. He didn't even wait 24 hours. It was like he decided that we were a couple or something. One more thing I can't accept.

What didn't shock me was Edward showing up at the house about 20 minutes after Jasper hung up with him. Of course, luckily for me, Jasper had gone out to do some grocery shopping, so I was left to face the man on my own.

He didn't greet me with a 'hello' or 'how are you doing' or even a 'fuck you'.

He damn near knocked me out with a punch to the face.

Cue the words I vomited back to Chief Swan. I'm sure half the block heard him screaming at me.

I couldn't blame him for doing it.

So, I said nothing.

It was all I could do to uncover my smashed face and look him in the eye as he continued to yell. Every word was true.

You're going to hurt him.

You could never commit to someone else.

It was too soon after Rosalie's death to consider a relationship with someone else.

I continued to say nothing.

"You couldn't stand to see him happy when you were miserable, could you? You couldn't stand the fact that someone else might be important in his life besides you! You didn't care that he wasn't the only person you would be hurting, did you? Did it ever occur to you that I had strong feelings for him? And to get a phone call…a fucking _phone call_ telling me it was over because of you, how the _fuck_ do you think that made me feel, huh?"

Oh, God, how I wanted him to stop. But it was all true. I deserved every bit of it. That didn't, though, mean that I wanted to hear it.

"You know, it's probably just as well that things ended like they did. There wasn't enough room in our relationship for me, since he carried you wherever he went. I knew deep down while he was fucking me that he wished it was you."

I winced.

"I never wanted any of this," I said, trying to keep my sobs at bay.

"So you _are_ going to hurt him."

"I don't want to. He doesn't deserve it. He deserves better than me."

When Jasper finally came back, bringing in armloads of groceries, I was still on the floor, nose bloodied and lip split. He was immediately at my side, dropping the bags by the door.

"What happened?"

"Someone didn't take getting dumped all that well," I grumbled.

He spent the rest of the day nursing my "injuries", regardless of how I told him that they were nothing. He should have known I was used to much worse.

I didn't allow myself the luxury of reaching for him like I did that night I fell apart all over again.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

I returned none of Jasper's affections, but that didn't stop him from desperately trying to turn me around.

I couldn't accept my feelings for him, couldn't accept the fact that I might be into men. And I still couldn't accept that my wife and daughter were never coming back.

The straw that broke the camel's back for him appeared one afternoon while Jasper was at work. I got shitfaced drunk, the dining room table covered in beer bottles and I lost count of how many I actually drank.

I couldn't stop crying. Crying for Rosalie, crying for Bella, crying for Jasper, knowing I was hurting him by not showing the level of interest he did. Memories of trashing the living room flood my mind from time to time as I remember breaking Rose's ceramic collectibles against the piano, smashing photos on the floor, throwing fake potted plants across the room.

I wanted none of it anymore.

Making my way up the stairs, I located my bottle of Percocet and brought it back downstairs, and grabbing another beer from the fridge before sitting down at the crowded dining room table.

I had found the perfect end.

Jasper walked in just in time to see me pop the top off the pill bottle, the one I had been struggling with for five minutes trying to maneuver the fucking child proof lock.

"Emmett?"

I could hear the worry in his voice, and even though I didn't look up at him, I could tell he was surveying the damage I caused in the living room.

"What's going on, babe?"

"Don't. Call. Me. That." The words came out in a hiss as I squeezed the pill bottle tight in my fist.

I looked up in time to see him flinch at my words.

He whispered my name as I dumped the pills on the table.

"I wonder how many of these I would have to take for me to fall asleep and never wake up? Any idea, Jasper?"

I have never seen a man move as fast as he did.

He swept the scattering of pills onto the floor and yanked me out of my chair by my shirt.

"You son of a bitch!"

The words ran in a loop in my head as I reeled from the force of his open handed slap across my face. Most folks would think that a slap to the face was a girly move, but he was every bit the man as he doled out the blow.

"Do you think you're the only one suffering? Confused? Hurt? What gives you the fucking right to erase it all, huh?"

He finally released me to fall back into the chair.

"Forget the hissy fit mess in the living room, Emmett. Forget the fact that you're practically flat on your face drunk. How do you think it makes me feel to come home and see the man I love trying to kill himself?"

Those words delivered a bigger slap to the face than his hand ever could.

"That's right, Emmett McCarty. I love you. I've loved you so fucking much since the day we met. But right now? I hate you just as much as I love you."

He moved out the next day.

I expected him to drag me to the hospital and have them lock me up in a psych unit under suicide watch. He did nothing of the sort. Maybe he thought his words alone changed my mind, or maybe that was his way of demonstrating his newfound hate for me.

Regardless, I didn't take those pills.

I cleaned up my mess. Bagged up broken figurines and empty beer bottles, and flushed the pills down the toilet.

It was then that I googled grief counseling and found a group that met on Tuesdays in Port Angeles in a church basement.

Which brings me to my first meeting.

_Hi. My name is Emmett, and I'm a grieving son of a bitch. _

I'm surprised by how the words spilled out of my mouth with such ease, and I'm grateful for the loosening of the muscles in my chest that have been clenched tight since I lost my family.

"We're all so sorry for your loss, Emmett, and we're glad you're here today."

A young lady sitting to my right, Emily, I think her name is, pats my knee and offers me a sad smile, which I return.

Through a glaze of tears, I can see scars on her face, and it's not long before I find out how she got them.

An intruder broke into their house while she was in her daughter's nursery rocking her to sleep. The intruder stabbed her husband while he slept then came into the nursery and attacked her. The baby suffered no injuries, but Emily was barely able to defend herself and was left with big ragged scars across her face. She was lucky to survive.

"How old is your daughter now?" I ask.

"Claire is two."

"Do you think she remembers anything?"

"No. Thank God."

She pats my knee again and whispers to me as the next person gives their story.

"I can't imagine how hard it is to lose a child, but from a widow's standpoint, know that it will get better. The pain won't ever go away, and you will always miss your wife, but the pain will get better eventually."

I cover her hand with mine and smile at her words. I'm not sure yet if I believe them, but hearing them is a comfort.

I wish I came here sooner. Hearing other's stories about the loss of loved ones really puts things in perspective. Sadly enough, I'm not the only one in the group who has lost a child. One father lost his son to SIDS, and his wife committed suicide shortly after their child's passing. Another lost a child to cancer, yet another, in a car accident like I lost my Bella. While it's heartbreaking hearing their tales, it's comforting to know that I'm not as alone as I thought I was.

Leaving the group session, I got numbers from several people that requested I call whenever I needed to. I, of course, offered mine in return.

While the session left me with a sense of relief, getting so much off my chest, it all comes flooding back when I arrive at an empty home.

The next morning I make a decision, hoping it's the right one, and I call my old boss.

"Mike? Is there still a position for me?"

**O.o**

**A/N Thanks for reading.**


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